


Just Enough Room for Hope

by r_grayjoy



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: daily_deviant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-13
Updated: 2010-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-12 11:11:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r_grayjoy/pseuds/r_grayjoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"He was an Auror, you know," Snape remarks casually while he waits.  "His kind are the most satisfying to break."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Enough Room for Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Written for daily_deviant in June 2007 for the "brothels" theme.

  
**Just Enough Room for Hope**   


He steps into the parlor, his severe black robes and pale features a stark contrast to the gaudy décor of the place. His boots click harshly on the mosaic tile floor, and the patrons and servants in attendance look up from their activities in surprise. They quickly avert their eyes, attempting to hide their fear and distaste, but he has already seen it. He sneers down his long nose at them, as though they are all beneath his contempt.

"Ah, Master Snape." The smarmy host of the establishment is at his side in a matter of moments. "We're delighted to see you again. How may we serve you this evening?"

"My usual," he replies curtly, and watches as the host signals to his assistants, his motions just this side of frantic.

"Of course. He will be ready for you momentarily." Snape is the right hand of the Dark Lord, and a powerful and vengeful dark wizard in his own right; no one dares deny him anything.

"He was an Auror, you know," Snape remarks casually while he waits. "His kind are the most satisfying to break." He is careful to keep his expression neutral, but there is a gleam in his eye that causes the host to blanch.

Soon he is led to a large, posh room on the second floor. Snape nods his approval and dismisses the guide with a wave, then steps inside and closes the door. Swiftly, he slips his wand from his sleeve and waves it about, testing to make certain that the privacy wards are in place to his satisfaction. Only then does he turn to the figure standing at the far end of the room.

The man is attired in only a sheer dressing gown that leaves very little to the imagination. Despite having been captured by the Dark Lord's Death Eaters more than two years ago, he is tall and lean and well-muscled still. The sleek lines of his body, the dark skin, the considerable bulge at his crotch show through the white of the dressing gown, and Snape feels his cock begin to stir in anticipation. "Shacklebolt," he greets.

"Snape. What's a wizard like you doing in a place like this?" the former Auror smirks.

"You knew I'd be back."

"Less talking, more fucking," Shacklebolt says, and struts assuredly towards Snape. "I don't get paid to talk."

"You don't get paid at all," Snape reminds the audacious man.

"Severus…" Shacklebolt begins, and now something other than pride and confidence crosses his handsome features.

Snape doesn't want to see it. "Shut up," he orders, and unceremoniously shoves his tongue in Shacklebolt's mouth.

Instead of pulling away, Shacklebolt grabs Snape by the robes and forces their bodies together with a harsh grunt. And _this_ is the reason Snape comes back here time and time again. This man is not broken, oh no. He fights back, with teeth and tongue and nails. He struggles against Snape, tearing at his robes, digging strong fingers into scarred flesh. Snape isn't aware that he's been bitten until he tastes blood.

In moments they are both naked, clothing scattered about the floor haphazardly. Snape shudders at the sensation of hot skin covering his own as Shacklebolt shoves him against the bedpost. Shacklebolt attempts to drop to his knees before Snape, to take Snape's swollen cock in his mouth, but Snape has no patience for such niceties today. He grabs Shacklebolt by the shoulders, hard enough to leave bruises where his fingertips dig into dark flesh, and tosses him onto the bed face first.

Climbing up behind Shacklebolt, Snape hastily _Accio_ s the provided jar of lubricant and twists the top open. After spreading a generous amount on himself, he tosses the jar aside. He does nothing to prepare his partner. He wants Shacklebolt to feel this, to feel _him_.

Snape grabs Shacklebolt by the hips and drags him into a kneeling position. Aligning himself quickly, he presses forward, pulls back… again… again… and with a sharp snap of his hips, sheaths himself fully in Shacklebolt's heat. Without giving either of them time to adjust, he begins thrusting rapidly, angling himself _just so_ to make the former Auror cry out unabashedly. In moments, Snape's senses are wholly consumed by gasps and groans, wet sounds, the smell of sex and sweat and anger.

It doesn't take long. Feeling his climax drawing near, Snape reaches around to grasp Shacklebolt's shaft. He gives it a few hard jerks more or less in time with his thrusts, and Shacklebolt shouts and comes all over the posh satin duvet, cock jerking in Snape's hand. Snape pounds into him hard enough to slam the bed against the wall, a feral growl builds in his chest, and his vision goes dark as he spills himself violently.

Carefully, Snape withdraws, then wraps his arms around Shacklebolt, gently lowering him to the bed. He props himself up on one elbow, panting for breath, and strokes his hand over dark, cooling skin. Lifting his wand, he casts several cleaning charms. When he moves to heal Shacklebolt's bruises, however, Shacklebolt stops him with a firm hand on his arm. "No. Leave them."

With a nod, Snape lays his wand aside. He understands. "How long do you believe we have this time before anyone grows suspicious?"

"A while. Not long enough, but a while."

Snape merely snorts lightly in response. It is never long enough.

"The resistance is growing stronger, gaining in numbers by the week," Shacklebolt says, pride and determination shining in his eyes. "We're smart, vigilant, well-organized."

"And the Dark Lord is growing complacent. He has always overestimated his own power over others, and underestimated the intelligence and resolve of his enemies," Snape replies.

"His vanity _will_ be his downfall." The words are spoken like a promise, but Shacklebolt is careful not to specify when it will come to pass.

"I have documents for you. Locations of several Death Eater centers of operations, as well as a list of those among the Dark Lord's supporters whom I believe to be questioning the way of things, and who might be swayed. You must memorize the information and destroy the evidence quickly."

"I've not failed you yet. I won't let you down, Severus."

"Kingsley…"

Before Snape can complete whatever he had meant to say, Shacklebolt says, "I know."

And then they are silent.

It is never long enough, and their time does not belong to them. But perhaps one day they will have time of their own.


End file.
